Shelter from the Rain
by Jelsemium
Summary: Professor Laurel Wilson often thought that, under the right circumstances, walking in the rain with your significant other can be romantic. Note: follow up to the first season episode Sabotage.


Title: Shelter from the Rain

Author: Jelsemium

Pairing/Characters: Larry Fleinhardt/Laurel Wilson

Rating: K

Notes: This is the first Numb3rs story I ever wrote. It is based on events from the episode "Sabotage" which aired in the _first season_ (In other words, BEFORE Larry Met Megan!)

Warnings: You may want to brush your teeth before or immediately after reading this. ;-)

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

Under the right circumstances, walking in the rain with your significant other can be romantic.

Scurrying across campus during a light drizzle to reach the student bookstore before the sky opened its floodgates didn't _quite_ qualify. However, it wasn't entirely ineligible.

Professor Laurel Wilson wasn't complaining. As far as she was concerned, any time spent with Professor Lawrence "Larry" Fleinhardt was good. And if the conversation should turn to possibilities for the future, it was even better.

Right now, the topic was children. And since Larry was talking about them as if they were a strong possibility for his future, Laurel was a happy camper.

"Theoretically, of course, the concept has massive appeal," Larry said as the approached the bookstore. "To have a method of touching the future… to continue the family name… Yes, it sounds good. And children have an intrinsic appeal with their fresh outlook on life and natural honesty."

"Agreed," Laurel said. It amused her that Larry felt the need to explain that he liked children. It was the nature of the physicist, she decided, that no proposition was considered so obvious that it didn't need to be validated.

"The trouble comes with the practical application…" Larry continued. "I'm not entirely certain that I would make an adequate parent." He held the door open while Laurel dropped the newspaper she'd been holding over her head into a recycling bin.

"Thank you," she said.

Larry blinked, as if confused as to why Laurel would thank him for being an incompetent parent. Then his expression cleared up as he connected her gratitude to his polite gesture.

"You're quite welcome," he said to the back of her head as she entered the bookstore.

"Bookstore" was something of a misnomer, as there were far more than textbooks on sale here. The student store also carried other school supplies, from pencils to laptop computers.

On top of that, the "bookstore" stocked just about every amenity that a far-from-home student could need – including, but not limited to – hairbrushes, toothbrushes, shampoo, cleanser, first aid kits, sewing kits, rubber stamps and postage stamps. They even carried raincoats, rain boots and other items of clothing.

"I think you're selling yourself short, Larry," Laurel said, stopping by the rack of umbrellas. (The ones for sale, not the ones that were dripping politely next to the door, waiting for their owners to reclaim them.) "You're good with people and you're good with details," she continued.

Larry smiled modestly as she picked over the display. Apparently, Laurel wasn't the only one who had decided to buy a new umbrella today, as there weren't many left.

"Well, yes, I am rather good with details," Larry continued. "But am good with the right details? I confess to noticing a considerable amount of eye-rolling in my class from time to time as I try to develop a point."

Laurel eliminated the purse sized umbrellas immediately; she wanted one big enough for two.

"I expect that usually happens at the end of class, when the students are nearing input overload," Laurel murmured.

"Well, sometimes," Larry said. "Frequently, maybe even. However, I do note the same expression on Charles' face, from time to time."

Laurel nodded as the mentally discarded the plain colored umbrellas. They were big enough, but her umbrella would be spending considerable time keeping company with other umbrellas during staff meetings, classes and family gatherings and she wanted one that stood out more than a solid color.

"I expect Professor Eppes gets that expression with a lot of people," she said. "I notice it whenever anybody interrupts his train of thought."

"More like his Cunningham Chain of Thought," Larry quipped.

Laurel rolled her eyes and they both laughed.

"I suppose interrupting a math genius is against the Chain Rule?" Laurel asked with mock innocence.

Larry looked delighted. "Oh, you're reading up on math, are you?"

"It seems to be the way to keep your interest," Laurel murmured. Her choices were narrowed to three very large, well-made umbrellas with artistic prints on them. The Chocolate Lovers Umbrella (which was covered with pictures of bon-bons) the Tiffany Dragonfly Umbrella (which looked like a Tiffany lamp), and an umbrella with Monet's Woman with Umbrella design on it.

Much as she was tempted by the chocolate bon-bons, she decided that the umbrella with a picture of a woman holding an umbrella was too perfect to pass up. Larry chuckled as she paid, but said nothing.

Laurel expected some witty remark about her choice as they exited the bookstore, but Larry became distracted.

The physics professor stopped just outside the exit, apparently noticing that the sprinkle had transformed into a steady downpour. He squinted upwards, some calculation or other obviously running behind the blue eyes. He shook his head, as if dissatisfied. Then he held his hand up to prevent Laurel from unfurling her purchase.

"I … um... hate to keep you waiting, but there's something I need to pick up while we're here," he said. Laurel shook her head, but the gesture was wasted as Larry was already headed back inside.

When Laurel followed him, the cashier grinned. "You'll need a tag on your umbrella, Professor," the acne scarred student of comparative religions said jovially.

Laurel grinned at him and held the umbrella out to be tagged.

"Got any proof of purchase?" the cashier teased.

"Still harboring hopes of passing Philosophy 275?" Laurel queried in mock annoyance.

Her student held up his hands in surrender.

Laurel could see that Larry was balancing several items in his arms, so she picked up a basket before rejoining him.

"Hm, oh, thanks," Larry said absently, dumping his load into the basket. He wandered off, leaving Laurel still holding his purchases-to-be.

Curious, she shook the basket and took a quick inventory… socks, underwear and undershirts.

Not exactly romantic acquisitions.

On the other hand, neither of them had said that this was a romantic rendezvous. In fact, it was supposed to be merely a quick errand because she needed a new umbrella.

Laurel did wonder why Larry decided that now was the time to buy clothing, since the bookstore prices were higher than Target or Sav-On. There was a faint rumble and the rain began audibly pounding on the roof, meaning the storm had upgraded itself from a cloudburst to a deluge.

Laurel cocked her head to listen, and then nodded to herself. Of course, the items might cost more to buy here, but buying them now would save Larry a detour in the rain… not to mention two mad dashes across a flooding parking lot.

She blinked and realized that Larry was no longer in the same aisle. She turned on her heel, trying to spot him, and then heard him muttering to himself about sizes. Following his voice, she found him near the rack of half-price clothing. He was studying the label of an orange and white (CalSci's colors) jogging suit. The CalSci logo was splashed across the chest of the hoodie and was embroidered on the right pocket of the pants.

It was a nice combination, but the orange would make Larry's complexion look ghastly. "Um, Larry, I don't think that orange is your color?"

"Color?" Larry blinked at the heavy material in his hands. "Ah, yes. There's another problem with adopting a girl. I expect that she'd be very conscious about color… and style… and… well, whatever else it is that women worry about when it comes to clothing."

He folded the suit and put it back on the shelf, but Laurel's relief was short lived. Because Larry promptly picked up an orange and white suit from a different shelf and plopped it into his basket.

Laurel opened her mouth, but her brain hijacked her second comment about colors to: "A girl? Then you've set your mind on adopting a daughter?"

Larry ran his hand through his blond curls and nodded. "Oh…yes, definitely a girl…" He blinked at her. "You don't think that sounds… well… perverted, do you?"

He looked so upset at that thought, that Laurel grasped his arm and squeezed. "No, of course there's nothing perverted about wanting a daughter!" she assured him, shaking her head to emphasis her refutation.

She looked down the aisle at the rest of the jogging suits. She had to admit, the selection was extremely limited. The only suits in Larry's size besides the orange were mint green and pink that was only suitable for teenaged females and a bright yellow that was only suitable for Hazmat teams.

Larry headed for the cashier and paused in front of a stack of turtlenecks, also on sale.

Quickly Laurel snapped up a white shirt (size medium) and dropped it into the basket. There were some very bright colors there that would look perfectly appalling with the orange and white exercise suit. Not that she could be certain that Larry was planning to wear this shirt with that suit, but why risk it?

"I suppose a girl would be embarrassed by my lack of fashion knowledge," Larry said mournfully.

"Larry, I hate to throw in a discouraging word about adopting," Laurel said drolly. "However, the sad truth is gender does not matter. Fashion savvy does not matter. No matter what you say or do, or how cool you are to the rest of humanity, there will come a time when your child will be mortified to acknowledge that he or she even inhales oxygen from the same atmosphere as you do."

Larry looked startled. "Oh, I hadn't considered that…." He frowned and looked at the ceiling. "I'm not sure if I was ever embarrassed to been seen in public with my father… Of course, he was less than pleased to be seen in public with me since the day I cross-examined our minister about the physics of the parting of the Red Sea…"

"I see," Laurel said, managing to keep a straight face.

Larry suddenly turned towards her. "Do you think an adopted child would feel, more, well, more at home if she had a sibling?"

Laurel frowned. "I suppose it would depend on the girl." She shrugged. "Of course, you're getting a bit ahead of yourself… unless you've definitely decided to adopt."

"Point taken," Larry said with a jerk of his head as he took the basket from Laurel. "Do you suppose they have shoes here?" he wondered, changing the subject back to shopping.

"There are some canvas athletic shoes on one wall," Laurel said. She was ready to pounce, but the only color choice was white, with the CalSci logo in orange. So that was what Larry picked out.

He waved his finger over the basket as if taking a mental role call, and nodded to himself. "Well, this looks like everything," he murmured.

Once again the two professors found themselves standing in line for the cashier. The line was short, consisting of a blonde girl buying a spiral bound notebook and the chocolate bon-bon umbrella; followed by a dark haired boy buying an orange and white sweatshirt and an armful of towels.

"Ah, I should have picked up a few towels," Larry tsked, mostly to himself.

However, he spoke loudly enough for the student to hear him. "Here, Professor Fleinhardt," the boy said politely. "You can have some of mine." He offered his armful.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Parker," Larry started. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

Parker shook his head. "Nah, I just realized that I only have enough money for two towels, I was going to have to leave the other two with the cashier, anyway."

"Well, that is convenient," Larry said. He picked up the top two towels, both orange.

"Wait," Parker said.

There was a brief shuffle of cloth until Larry and Parker each held one white and one orange towel.

After paying, Larry tucked the receipt into his pocket and followed Laurel into the rain again.

They paused while Laurel put up her umbrella again. The rain was coming down in sheets now. Laurel made a bet to herself that half the students in her 10 AM class would sleep in.

"You ready for breakfast?" Laurel asked. "Rain always puts me in the mood for scones and cocoa."

She raised the umbrella and stepped into the downpour.

Larry frowned as he shifted his packages under his left arm so he could slip his right arm around her waist. "Scones?" he murmured vaguely.

"Food?" Laurel said, she snuggled closer and wrapped her left arm around Larry. "Specifically, a breakfast pastry. The Pie and Burger makes excellent scones." She grinned. "They're even white."

Larry grinned back. "Excellent! I just have one stop to make before we head over to the Pie & Burger." He paused and seemed a trifle abashed. "It's not exactly on a direct route between here and your scones."

Laurel looked at him curiously. Then she shrugged. "No problem," she said. "I've always been a fan of walking." She removed her arm from Larry's waist and grasped the handle with both hands as the weight of the falling water made the umbrella wobble.

Larry grinned at that. "Which reminds me," he said. "The LA Chaparral walkers are holding a joint perambulation with The Foundation for Preserving Desert Fauna."

"Sounds like an invitation," Laurel said. "I accept."

Larry turned on the path that lead to the math building.

"This detour shouldn't take long," Larry promised.

After a moment's thought, Laurel decided that she shouldn't be surprised that Larry had business there. There were times when it seemed as if Larry lived in the math department.

A student galloped past them, intent on reaching shelter. Larry steered Laurel to the right side of the path to avoid being rammed.

Several other students scurried past them in an effort to avoid being soaked. Some of them were less successful than others. One student in particular had failed spectacularly to stay dry.

In fact, considering the way that his light jacket clung to his torso and his blue jeans had been turned indigo with wetness, the young man looked as if he had swum to school rather than biked.

They stepped under the overhang and Laurel lowered her new umbrella and shook the water off... making sure not to smack any innocent passersby with either the umbrella or the expelled water droplets.

The student she had observed earlier was struggling to lock his bike and keep his backpack off the ground (and out of the deepening puddles); all the while trying to avoid drowning in his own dark curls.

Larry ducked away from the lowering umbrella, but instead of going inside, he approached the semi-drowned student and took charge of the overstuffed backpack.

"Thanks," murmured the student.

Wait, Laurel knew that voice. She shook her head and sighed. It seemed as if Professor Charles Eppes got younger every time she saw him. She wondered if the mathematician had an aging portrait hidden in a closet.

She snorted at that thought. What was she thinking? An uber-geek such as Eppes would more likely have a decaying JPEG file on a hidden partition of his hard drive.

The three professors entered the math building and stepped out of the path of the incoming flood of students.

"You know, Charles, if I were going to guess..." Larry started.

"Spare me," pleaded Eppes.

Larry chuckled, which Laura interpreted to mean that Larry had no intention of sparing the math genius.

Sure enough...

"…I'd strongly suspect that you not only neglected to check the weather report last night…"

Eppes sighed in resignation and squeegeed his hair back over his head with both hands. This caused a minor cascade of water on to his already over-saturated shirt and jacket.

"... You didn't listen when your father warned you that it was going to rain today."

Eppes frowned. "How did you know what Dad said last night? Did he call you?"

The physics professor shook his head, grinning. "Because your father pays attention to these things and he always tries to warn you."

Larry offered Eppes one of the shopping bags. "Here's a towel, my boy," he said with exaggerated kindness.

Eppes sighed... with relief this time... accepted the bag and dug out the orange towel.

He began scrubbing his face & scalp. Then he tried to hand the bag back to Larry.

"Oh, no," Larry said, holding up one hand in a 'stop' signal. "Keep it. There's another towel inside. Not to mention a pair of dry shoes."

"Thanks, Larry," Eppes said gratefully. He looked inside the bag again.

"Don't drip inside the bags," Larry said. "I have no intention of running through this deluge to get you another set of dry clothing." He handed over the second bag. "And, speaking of dry clothing, here's the rest of my heroic effort to save you from your absent-mindedness."

Laurel had to admit that the orange and white jogging suit would look good on Eppes.

Eppes beamed. "I owe you," he said before sneezing several times.

"Indeed you do," Larry smirked. "I'll expect those T-duality transformation equations on my desk by the end of the week. It's been three weeks since you said that you were almost finished with them."

"Yes, Larry," Eppes said meekly.

Larry dug his receipt out of his pocket. "And I'll take this in cash, thank you; it will save me from having to make a trip to the credit union."

"You could have got money from the ATM in the bookstore," grumbled Charlie, taking the receipt and glancing over it.

Laurel bet herself that the mathematician had memorized the subtotal, tax rate, tax and final total, but wouldn't remember what he was paying Larry for by the time he dug his wallet out.

Larry raised an eyebrow. "Charles, you know how I feel about ATMs."

Eppes shrugged. "Right, you don't believe in trusting your money to machines," he sighed. He looked in the bag again. He sneezed again.

"Thanks again," he said before he wandered off. He had almost reached the corner when he sneezed yet again, sighed, returned to where Laurel and Larry were standing, smiled apologetically, dug out his wallet, counted out the amount that he owed, and handed the money to Larry.

Eppes nodded to them both, stuffed his wallet back into his sodden jacket, and moved off with a little more purpose.

Laurel shook her head and laughed. "I do not envy his wife's job," she said. "She'll have her hands full."

"I expect Amita will prove up to that task," Larry said mildly. A mischievous grin flashed across his face and he held up his right forefinger. "Four, three, two…"

A grim-faced Eppes reappeared, reclaimed his backpack from Larry, and retreated down the hall for the third time.

Larry and Laurel looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"By the way," Laurel said. "I don't know why you doubt your parenting skills. I think you will make a great father."

Larry cocked his head at her and a pleased, almost shy, smile stole across his face. "Indeed? What leads you to that conclusion, pray tell?"

Laurel laughed and took his arm. "I'll explain over breakfast," she promised.


End file.
